


Seasons in the Sun

by Omnicat



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:22:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/pseuds/Omnicat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stolen hours come and go in the little world they’ve built for themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seasons in the Sun

Time, they both knew all too well, was a precious thing, even after the last bullets had been fired and the fumes of war dissolved, their putrid sting fading slowly from memory. Life was short and time scarce, so they worked hard, tried to do as well as they could, and sometimes they got so caught up in the building of a better world that they forgot they were supposed to live in it, as well. When that happened he was usually the first to notice, to grow restless with cabin fever, and he’d disappear for a while, slipping away in the knowledge that security could be maintained without his supervision for a few hours, at least.

She wondered where he went when he left her side, and it wasn’t too long before she gave in to the need to know and asked him, only to be asked in return how bored she must be with her work if she paid so much attention to him. She replied that it was quite the contrary, that the new spring in his step each time he returned from his mystery absences made her realise just how little time she had left to herself, and how draining her work was proving to be in the long run.

She was amazed, astounded, when he first showed her the place.

 _"Goodness, Duo, how did you find this? I_ own _it and I’ve never expected to find anything back here."_

_"You know my motto about run and hide? Well, if ya go hiding, you need a place to go, and I’m good at finding them, if I do say so myself."_

He didn’t sound modest at all, but that was alright, because she wouldn’t have let him be even if he’d tried, she was so delighted. Instead she asked: _"What were you running from, then?"_ and immediately wondered if she had gone too far, but was assured he didn’t mind when he grinned lazily, stretching out on a spot he obviously vacated more often, and answered: _"Same thing as you."_

From that moment on, after seeing how just being there caused her face to light up, he smuggled her out of the office whenever he thought she looked blue, away from the crowded halls and conference rooms, to the place where Mother Nature sang them lullabies. It was reason enough to start looking ‘blue’ on purpose. She loved the quiet hours away from the rest of the world so much that soon, she came to fetch him almost as often as he came to fetch her.

It was a secluded place near the border of the Peacecrafts’ grounds, where the earth began to slope upwards towards the mountains and the only efforts the gardeners made to tending were meant to uphold the environment’s natural charm. It looked lovely enough to throw that wry paradox right out her mental window, never to bother her again.

There were willows, silver and weeping, perched along the rocky-beddinged stream in a messy line that formed a cluster where the ground suddenly fell, as if scooped away by a giant hand, only to be filled with clear water. Reeds grew everywhere, forming upside down curtains reaching for the sky, swaying in the breeze along with their draped willowy counterparts. Tall grass and pale clusters of flowers on the ground, contrasting with the dark plumes high up in the reeds, littered the place and rendered them completely invisible to the outside world when they basked in the lazy summer warmth by the side of the pond, in a tiny world of slanted sunshine and soft, vibrant, living, _breathing_ green.

She’d been somewhat surprised to find he appreciated this kind of beauty, but not too much. But maybe that was hindsight talking; there were a lot of things she would never have guessed about him before he’d crowned himself King over this small part of Sank and made her Queen again, adorned with a crown of posies and a staff of woven reeds and willow-leaves.

That first summer she still tried to show Heero places like this, to steal away in the twilight and admire Earth’s beauty for a change, instead of tend to its problems. She asked Duo if it was alright if she took him there, and it was, but Heero would not come, felt no need to explore and enjoy that which they fought for the way she did. She learned to distinguish and define the indefinable that was human affection there, between the willows and the reeds where nothing ever changed and nothing stayed the same, where there were endless shades of green and gold and no one leaf was similar to another.

Duo listened to her then, the sunlight playing in his auburn hair and along his boyish features and casting extra shading on the supple muscles poking out from underneath his summer clothing, and in return he complained about how clichéd and stereotypical it was that the one girl he thought could understand the male psyche wasn’t interested in the male anatomy, and mock-grieved the fact that Hilde wouldn’t let him watch when her girlfriend stayed over for the night. Relena slapped him playfully for that and told him about all the other fish in the sea, and squealed in a decidedly undignified way when he picked her up and threatened to introduce her to the sweet-water fish in the pond if she didn’t save her compassion for someone who needed it.

Autumn settled in gradually as they kept the world spinning with their words and measures, and the new season brought out the brown and red and orange in their little hiding-place and made them wear coats and bring a blanket to sit on as the light became a heavy, pale gold. The world they lived and worked in did not stop turning just because the one they escaped to changed, after all, so they kept coming there whenever they had the time, until winter reduced their visits to fleeting glimpses of the frozen pond and the reeds as they walked by and peeked in through the bare willows, steaming cups of cocoa or coffee in their gloved hands.

Together they found windowsills between frosted panes and thick velvet curtains, a crackling fire in the grate while they sank into stuffed chairs in a forgotten timbered room, and the world seemed to shrink again to the circle of warmth and light cast by the dancing flames. Their conversation changed along with the setting, suddenly no longer dealing with the people in their lives but the things they did, the things they bled and screamed and wept for. She worried if anyone cared for their efforts and he wondered if it really mattered either way if they tried, and they took turns convincing each other that yes, it did, that knowing he tried gave her hope and that knowing she cared made it worth for him to try.

When the first tidings of spring arrived they rushed back out into the gardens, presumably to see if their small hollow had survived the frost, but really to get away from the room where the mistletoe had hung at Christmas, where a playful kiss had lingered just a bit too long and a roguish grin had faltered, giving way to a furious blush that told so very much.

But the ever-warming sun and the knowledge that nothing from beyond their borders of reeds and willow could disturb them here made it all so much easier. This time it was her who took the initiative, and soon a long, leisurely taste of one another became as much part of the ritual as smoothing out the grass, loosening their ties and removing their shoes, and the feeling of They solidified in the same, almost unnoticeable pace as the ripening of spring into summer.

As temperatures peaked and the sun’s sporadic caresses left their skins tanned, hardly a visit went by anymore without clothing being displaced or shedded altogether. Touch was experimental, something she cherished and he revelled in as they slowly, lazy like the swaying of the willow branches in the gentle breeze, explored each other’s mouth and limbs, memorized every plane and valley of the other’s face. They spoke about everything in general and nothing in particular, of anything that happened to come to mind, because nothing could really catch their interest while bees and butterflies zoomed and twirled casually through the air. Glittering dragonflies stood guard for them.

The colder it got the closer they came in compensation, wrapped around each other on the blanket amidst the reeds or fogging up the windowpanes behind the closed velvet curtains. It was a secret they enjoyed keeping, confined by the shadows in the timbered room until the mistletoe provided such a fitting means of announcement.

In the end they only needed each other to stay warm between the white sheets. Nothing but each other’s name tumbled from their lips, in throaty moans or breathless cries as they feasted on the untapped reserves of their bodies. The light was clear and bright and lit the entire room, and the dazzling glow blinded them. But that was alright; all that mattered was each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments on older fics will ALWAYS remain welcome.


End file.
